A Summer Thing
by frostedteardrops
Summary: Oliver Wood/OC Cody tore off steeply at a breath wrenching dive, and catch the snitch one handed, pulling out of the dive just before hitting the ground and gliding smoothly back to the bleachers.
1. Chapter 1

**One**

"Pompous arse," Cho muttered under her breath, and beside her Cody couldn't help but snort. For the better part of the last quarter hour, they'd been assaulted by Marcus Flint's slimy demeanour, greasy hair and shameless use of rather pathetic pickup lines.

"Slimy git," Cody replied in agreement, nodding seriously.

"Oi! Shut it back there, yeah?" called Oliver Wood, captain and keeper extraordinaire of Puddlemere United. "In case you two chattering gossips haven't noticed, we're trying to run some proper try-outs here!"

Marcus Flint flew tauntingly around in front of Wood, standing vertical and holding on with only one hand to his Nimbus 3000. "Wood, is this how you captain your team as well? Because quite frankly--"

Oliver Wood turned his scowl from the two girls to the slimy candidate in front of him instead. "Show me what you can do, Flint," he growled in a tone that clearly indicated that the Chudley Canons had a greater chance of winning the league this year than Flint did of making the Puddlemere United team.

"Hipshook!" Cho called, addressing Puddlemere U's owner, "why are you holding try-outs? Shouldn't there be reserve team members for this?"

Gavin Hipshook, a small balding turnip of a man, turned a sickly shade a grey, but was saved from answering by Oliver Wood, who answered, "if our reserve members were any good, we'd still be auditioning players?"

Before Cho could answer, they were distracted by a loud shout from the pitch. Flint was the guilty party shouting, as could be predicted, "That was done on purpose! He gave me a crap pass!" He indicated Roger Davies, Cho's boyfriend, by jabbing a finger at him accusingly. "He messed up my Porskoff Ploy!"

Sighing tiredly, Wood declared that Chaser drills were done and everyone had a five minute water break in which to prepare for the next drill, in which they were going to try and score Bludgers with Wood as the Keeper.

Hipshook moved up the bleachers to sit beside Cho and Cody, rubbing his temples. He checked his watch. "It's already ten after two!" he exclaimed in surprise, "and we've yet to start the Seeker tryouts!" Shaking his head miserably, he wobbled off to discuss the situation with Oliver Wood, Roger Davies, and the other official members of Puddlemere United.

Cody felt rather out of place here. She didn't truly have any real plans for this summer, although the warm June days were already rushing towards summer. Basically, she wanted to get a job, save up some gold, and keep waiting for news on whether she'd gotten accepted into Hippograph Healer Institute in Iceland, a highly prestigious school for healers. Her twenty-first birthday was just around the corner, and already she was aimed for a career change.

This morning, it hadn't taken Cho much to convince Cody to come out and be supportive of her boyfriend Roger Davies's Quidditch team's Seeker and Chaser try-outs. Groggily, she'd agreed after Cho employed the excuse that today was her day off from her job at the Muggle Department of the Ministry of Magic. That was precisely how she now found herself at the tryouts, dressed in an oversize hoodie and grey sweatpants with plaid canvas shoes. Definitely not the most impressive combination. By the time they'd arrived, the tryouts were already well underway, and it didn't take a genius to figure out that the team members were not impressed. The general mood had only soured as the day wore on.

Roger Davies loped up the bleachers, glad for the brief respite, and handed over two mugs of steaming hot chocolate. "Having fun?"

Cody snorted, taking a mug gratefully. "Thanks." She glanced around warily, then whispered, "so why are you guys _really_ holding tryouts, anyway?"

Roger plopped down heavily, and gave her a furtive waggle of his eyebrows. "This stays between us, yeah?" Receiving a nod, he continued, "I'm not sure whether you're aware of this, but Hipshook's wife was a fair bit younger than him." He paused, taking a ginger sip of his cocoa. "A bit of a trophy wife, I suppose. Anyway, she played Chaser on Puddlemere, and well, to put it bluntly, she ran off with the Seeker. Quite an arrogant bloke too. It's still a bit of a sore subject, so I wouldn't recommend bringing in up in the vicinity of Hipshook, if you see my point."

Cody nodded, realising that this piece of scandal hadn't been in the tabloids recently. They must have hushed it up somehow, although it was hard to say how long it would be able to stay that way.

The Chaser tryouts progressed rather smoothly after that, and although the majority didn't fare particularly well against Wood's amazing Keeper skills, two or three managed to get a few good shots on him. But the day's trials were far from over.

As the Puddlemere Keeper and remaining Chasers resumed their spots on the bleachers, the Beaters headed out to test the Seeker-wannabes.

"Bloody hell!" Oliver exclaimed, pretending mock surprise at seeing Cody and Cho still there. "You two prissy still here?"

"Oh, sod off, Wood!" retorted Cho, throwing her magazine at him. "You should read that; there's a whole article in there about you. That ought to feed your ego a bit. All this shit about you being 'an extremely fit twenty-two year old, most eligible bachelor and such'. Load of bull if you ask me."

"Say, Cho," Oliver began, frowning slightly, catching the magazine with his well-trained Keeper skills. "Why aren't you trying out for Seeker?"

"She's too in love with her Ministry job," Roger replied, grinning. "Although I tried to convince her otherwise…"

Oliver nodded distractedly, as Demelza Robins walked out of the changing room. "Oi! You there! Perhaps if you could actually hold onto the Quaffle a little better, you'd have a shot!"

She turned to look at him for a brief second, her eyes shimmering dangerously, before she scurried for the exit.

"You were great today!" Cody called after her. Then she rounded on Wood. "If you hadn't been so harsh on her, I'm sure she would've done much better! Even so, she was one of the best and you know it."

Oliver looked at her sourly, sizing her up and down. "And what would you know about Quidditch? I can't imagine that you're extremely athletic."

Cody mouthed angrily, wordlessly, as terrible memories came rushing back. "I wouldn't know."

Cho gave Oliver a warning look. "That's enough."

They all turned their attention back to the pitch, and each regretted it almost instantly. The Seeker tryouts were progressing even worse than the Chasers one had. And so it was with a heavy heart and dejected mindset that they finally decided to call it a day at quarter past six, and the team regrouped on the bleachers with growling stomachs.

"Where's Hipshook?" asked Mockridge, one of the beaters. He'd barely finished voicing his concerns when Hipshook reappeared, holding the hand of a small child.

"My grandson," he explained to their questioning looks. "So, what's the overall concurrence as to today's advances?" he asked, and the team proceeded to debrief and discuss each of the candidates individually.

Cody zoned out for a while, but was jolted back to reality by the panicked voices.

"No, Theo, how could you?" Hipshook was scolding his grandson. Theo had accidentally released one of the practise Snitches, enchanted for a drill that made it particularly hard to capture. "And at a time when we have no Seeker too!"

Cody felt her heart thud heavily in her chest, and her breath constricted, making it hard to breathe. All the memories came rushing back, that fateful day, the pain, the memories. The feelings, the darkness, the depression. The feelings that had never really faded, partial pieces of her subconscious that she'd never really understood.

Cho looked at her pointedly, and Roger handed her his Firebolt. "Cody."

Cody looked at the broom, held out in front of her enticingly; she wanted it so badly, wanted to take the broom into her hands, wanted to feel the wind in her hair, wanted to feel her body suspended in the air, wanted to achieve that freedom that she hadn't felt since that fateful day nearly four years ago.

"It's been long enough."

Cody took a deep breath. She knew it was true. The entire team was looking at her, staring with wide open mouths and confused faces, but none of it mattered. It was just her and the broom. "I know," she whispered softly, then with a determined expression, mounted the broom and took off into the air.

"What're you playing at?" asked Wood, a highly annoyed expression on his handsome face. Cho quickly shushed him, and the whole team turned their faces skyward to watch Cody.

She started up into the air slowly, testing the feel of it, and was secretly delighted to find that the four years spent without having been on a broom hardly made a difference at all! Gaining confidence, Cody accelerated through the air, leaving all memories of the event from four years ago far away, down on the ground.

She began to look around for the Golden Snitch, revelling in the familiarity of being in the air. But she couldn't make herself concentrate too hard just yet; the elation of being back in the air was too much. She shot off straight up into the air, and then spotted the Snitch down at the bottom of the pitch, hovering about three feet off the ground by a goal post.

She tore off steeply at a breath wrenching dive, and catch the snitch one handed, pulling out of the dive just before hitting the ground and gliding smoothly back to the bleachers. She tried to hand the Snitch back to Hipshook, but the whole team was staring at her entranced.

"Er…" she began, unsure what to say.

Oliver seemed to recover himself first. "I thought you said you didn't play Quidditch," he said accusingly, although his voice was tinted with awe.

"Actually, I just said I wouldn't know," Cody clarified nervously.

Mockridge looked down at his watch. "Three minutes and twenty five point seven seconds," he said hollowly. "That's a record! Not even Mul--" he cut off abruptly, shooting a panicked look at Hipshook.

Hipshook merely stepped forward and said, "Full name, Cody?"

"Er," began Cody, utterly bewildered, "Dakota Wronski. What's going on--"

"Wronski?!" Fenwicke, the other Beater, exclaimed loudly. "No way! Any relation to Josef Wronski?" Oliver snorted loudly in disbelief.

Cody turned to look at him defiantly, an amused smile frolicking upon her lips. "As a matter of fact, yes. Direct descendant."

Hipshook grasped her hand tightly and shook it. "Well Dakota Wronski, we would be honoured if you would join Puddlemere United as our Seeker."

Mockridge pumped a fist into the air and let out a whoop. "Yes! Wait'll the league hears that we bagged a Wronski descendent for a Seeker! We've got the Cup this year for sure!"

"What?! No way," protested Wood, sputtering indignantly. "What about the other hopefuls? She didn't even try out! We can't just… at the very least we need to run some drills for her--"

Cody thought for a minute. It wasn't as if she had anything better to do this summer. Besides, maybe getting back into Quidditch was just what she needed.

"Oh shut up, Oliver," snapped Hipshook. "She's better than all the people we've tried out today, and you know it." His gaze softened. "What do you say, Cody?"

Cody looked at Oliver Wood, an unspoken challenge in her eyes, and said clearly, "in that case, I accept."

A rare smile possessed Wood's lips, as the rest of the team burst into cheers without abandon, the picturesque Quidditch pitch behind them glowing magically in the sunset.


	2. Chapter 2

**Two.**

"Alright team," said Oliver Wood, looking around at his team. "For the first practise, I have to admit: I'm rather impressed. We might have some pretty good odds this year, and I'm really looking forward to the season." He paused, looking at the newest members of the team. "Demelza and Cody, although the two of you are new, I still expect you guys to keep up in terms of both flying and conditioning. Demelza, you really need to improve your endurance. Cody, Merlin's beard, do cut down on your water break times, got it?"

Angrily, Cody opened her mouth to protest, but Oliver trundled on. "Good work, team. Hit the showers."

Seeing Cody about to give Oliver a piece of her mind, Mockridge and Fenwicke each looped a muscular arm through Cody's and hauled her off towards the change rooms while Oliver stayed behind to talk to Hipshook.

Cody shook her head, indignant. "I could strangle that arrogant--"

"We know Oliver Wood is a bloody drill sergeant," said Fenwicke.

"And always acts as though there's a splinter stuck up his arse," continued Mockridge.

"But he is a good captain," said Georgia Schuyler, the clean cut, blonde, twenty six year old Chaser.

"Really," affirmed Mockridge, seeing the scepticism scrawled across her face. "You just have to give him a chance," he said gently.

Doubtfully, Cody just stared at the two Beaters. "My water break was hardly long." They nodded in unison. "He said my flying was 'jerky, and resembled that of an amateur'." Another nod. "He insulted my favourite pair of sweat pants."

Fenwicke waved away her points. "Inconsequential details, that's all. Wood's got a bit of a big mouth around new people; his way of testing people, you see."

Due to the fact that Cody was looking incredulously at the two Beaters rather than watching where she was walking, she promptly tripped over her feet and went sprawling onto the dusty pitch. "Psfct," she mumbled, spitting out some dirt.

"Having fun?" came a voice from somewhere behind her, chuckling mirthfully.

Cody twisted around and found none other than Oliver Wood staring, left eye brow cocked questioningly. Roger reached down and yanked her to her feet.

Sighing tiredly, Oliver turned to address the rest of the team. "I've talked it over with Hipshook, and there's a new plan for tomorrow. We'll have a light practise in the afternoon, just some basic flying drills. Then we'll head over to House of Mouse for a team dinner at promptly seven. I've reserved a private room upstairs; Hipshook and I have decided that we need to work out some team stuff."

"And the morning?" asked Gavin Fenwicke, looking hopeful.

Oliver glanced at him. "You get it off. Now go shower; you guys stink worse than pigs before rain."

Following that advice, Cody spent a good twenty minutes in the shower, relaxing as the warm water streamed down her stressed muscles. She groaned as she reached up to apply shampoo. Perhaps four years without Quidditch really had taken a toll after all. They'd started off the practise fine that morning, with some basic laps around the pitch, first by air, and then by land. After that came the conditioning. They began with some so called 'light' cardio, then proceeded to the harsher resistance training.

Just getting dressed again took another five minutes, her muscles screaming in agony every time she moved them. "I really need to get in shape," Cody gritted her teeth, hauling her bag over her shoulder and exiting the steaming change room.

She'd barely stepped into the corridor before she froze. Oliver Wood had just exited the door beside hers, from the guys' change room. Shirtless. He was wiping water from his face and hair, and didn't notice her until they nearly collided. And of course, to Cody's utter mortification, caught her looking at his well sculpted chest.

Years of Quidditch had really improved his figure; fit looking abs, well defined shoulders and pectoral muscles, and beautifully formed arms, all emanating the healthy glow that comes from frequent exercise in the sun.

Oliver grinned, taking in Cody's messy wet hair and distracted expression. "Cheer up," he said, smiling in satisfaction as Cody's eyes immediately jerked back up to his face, a slightly guilty expression adorning her face. "Tomorrow's going to be a lot better; we've got the morning off and only light flying drills in the afternoon."

"Right," mumbled Cody, suddenly nervous. "See you then."

* * *

"Wake up!"

Cody bolted up in bed, fearful. "What the hell…" she screamed, noticing Cho's face right near hers. "Sweet Circe, how did you get in here?"

"Floo," said Cho, gesturing impatiently to Cody's door. "Come on. Up you get, we have tons to accomplish this morning, so we better get going."

"Mmm, no," said Cody, flopping back against her pillows. It felt like she had barely fallen asleep, yet it was already morning, and Cho was somehow in her apartment. Then again, it really wasn't that surprising, considering how common an occurrence this was. She herself was guilty of doing the exact same thing numerous times previously. "Go away, I want to sleep."

"Sure. You just want to dream some more about Oliver."

That got her up, sitting up so fast that she bonked foreheads with Cho. "What? No!" She fixed her friend with a stern look. "No."

"Okay," said Cho agreeably. "Roger told me that you guys got the morning off--"

"What time is it?"

"A little after nine; Saturday morning's no time for sleeping in. We need to go shopping!" Cho cried gleefully, drawing out the syllables of the last word purposely to annoy Cody. "I know it's your favourite activity."

"Why?"

"Because, little lady," began Cho, exasperation creeping into her tone, "You're Puddlemere United's newest Seeker. That alone warrants a fair bit of media attention. Then there's the added fact that your last name's Wronski; you can bet that the tabloids will have a field day with this. In addition to making up preposterous lies such as you dating fellow team members, being pregnant, a druggie, so on and so forth, they will be snapping pictures. And from personal experience, I can assure you that in order to keep your outside reputation, it would be preferable if you were wearing respectable clothing."

Cody stifled a yawn. "Fine, fine," she grumbled, groggily hauling herself out of bed and staggering towards the bathroom. "Just give me thirty minutes, okay?"

And sure enough, thirty minutes later the two found themselves in Diagon Alley, rapidly attacking the shops, speed shopping to find some presentable clothes.

"You'll need to find a new apartment," said Cho as they took a breather, sipping coffee.

Cody looked up sharply. "Why's that?"

Cho looked at her friend. "The pitch, how did you we get there yesterday and the day before?"

"By flying."

"Exactly. The whole township around the practise pitch; there's super strict anti-muggle protection in place to keep it secret. This also means that apparition is banned. In all honesty, Cody, it would be a lot easier if you lived closer. I'm sure Hipshook could help work something out."

Cody nodded distractedly. "It's only for the summer anyway, right? Hopefully, that is. If the whole thing with Hippograph works out--"

"It will," said Cho, reaching across the table to take Cody's hand. "It will."

* * *

Cody sifted tensely through her new clothes that she'd purchased earlier that morning. Two new dress robes, one casual one, a traveling cloak, two summer dresses (after much encouragement from Cho), a pair of jeans and two fitted tees. "Crap, crap," she grunted, looking at her wrist watch. It read 6:52 unforgiving, reminding her that she had merely eight minutes to get to House of Mouse. At least she was at Cho's apartment, which was significantly closer to the restaurant than her own.

"Come on, Cody," prodded Cho, entering the room. "Here," she said, lifting up the flowing yellow sundress and pushing it at Cody. "Just put this on and go."

"Thanks," muttered Cody, dressing in record time and shoving her feet into her trusty plaid canvas slip-ons. She bolted out the door and ran like as if the Grim were chasing her all the way to House of Mouse.

Outside the frosted glass paneled doors Cody hurriedly tried to smooth down her hair, looking at her severely dishevelled appearance in the reflection of the glass. Surprisingly, another figure nearly collided with her, looking equally dishevelled, if not more so.

"S--sorry," he panted, straightening up to be a fair bit taller than Cody. He looked at her. "Wronski?"

Cody whirled around in disbelief. "Wood?" She paused, gleeful. "My, my. Running a little late, aren't we, dear Captain?" she asked, revelling in her revenge and expecting to receive a retort.

She didn't get one. Oliver continued looking at her. "You look nice," he said finally.

Cody looked at him, surprised. "Er--thanks?"

Oliver grinned. "But ditch the shoes, Wronski. They really ruin the whole image."

* * *

**A/N: **_I know there aren't that many Oliver/Cody moments in here; this chapter is mostly filler more than anything else. The next ones, if not the next, will definitely be a lot more interesting. As for the first chapter, I've decided to leave it as it is for the time being and move on to the other chapters. As of now, the plan is to eventually go back and edit it thoroughly. Thanks to everyone who's read/reviewed/faved/added to alerts. Please review; feedback is really helpful, motivating, and greatly appreciated._


	3. Chapter 3

"This year, we need to give it a hundred and ten percent. This year we need to work harder, faster, stronger. This year, we need to function as one unit. This year, the League Cup is within our reach!" Oliver Wood waved his arms around to emphasize his point, a maniac glint in his eye as he spoke passionately while his dinner remained untouched.

Fenwicke looked down at his own dinner sadly. Their food had arrived a quarter hour ago, but as Oliver had been in the midst of a big pep speech, nobody had dared to interrupt him over so trivial a matter. "Oh, is he done yet?" he grumbled.

"Well, at least he's passionate about something," Roger whispered back out of the corner of his mouth, hoping that his captain wouldn't notice.

"I'm passionate too—about food. Merlin's beard, I'm starving."

"Nobody's keeping you from eating," pointed out Mockridge snidely.

"Benji, don't tempt me. You know I'm too well—" began Fenwicke, but exactly what he was too well of they never found out because Oliver rounded on them.

"Oi! You three think that this doesn't concern you? Are you, or are you not, a part of this team? Oliver paused, draining his glass of wine then motioning for a refill. "Yes? Well then, I've got news for you. This is damn important, and it would do you some good to pay attention."

Seeing Fenwicke about to retort, Hipshook pressed his lips together and shook his head vehemently.

Oliver indicated the pie chart and rather extensive diagrams behind him. "As it were, despite the fact that we did not make the League Finals last year, we managed to do passably well and as a result we've been seeded in relatively late this year. Because our first official game is still a ways off, I've organized an exhibition match for next week. Behind me are some new plays that I believe we should try out in the meantime."

Cody banged her head on the table a few times. As if it weren't already bad enough that she was seated to the right of Oliver (who was at the head of the table), now he was lecturing them endlessly; it was approaching quarter to eight now and she was _starving._

"Oh, shut it already," she muttered, none too quietly either.

Oliver froze. "Excuse me?"

Cody's head shot up. "Oh, crap. Did I just say that out loud?" she mused.

Oliver raised an eyebrow at her, annoyed, while the rest of the team minus Demelza (who still looked slightly terrified) shot each other amused grins. "Yes, you did."

Cody laughed nervously. "Well… not that I don't share your enthusiasm for tedious, prolonged, and also repetitive speeches, but man, right now? I'm so hungry."

Oliver's stomach (the traitor!) chose that moment to growl monstrously. He looked down at everyone's food sheepishly. "Right you are. Sorry, everyone, feel free to dig in." As everyone exhaled in relief and tore ravenously into their dinners, Oliver looked at Hipshook for confirmation before beginning with, "Hipshook and I have discussed this, and—"

"Oliver, dear," cut in Georgia tiredly, "do sit down and have some dinner."

As he was a good head and a half shorter, Hipshook had to stand up on his chair in order to reach Oliver's shoulder and push him affectionately into his seat.

"In order to function better as a unit, I propose that over the next little while we partake in some team building exercises—beginning tonight. Get to know your team mates a little better over dinner, especially Cody and Demelza." Hipshook raised his glass. "To a great season." The rest of the team echoed him and drank.

To Cody's chagrin, as the team broke off into smaller conversations, she found herself engaged with Oliver Wood and Gordon Hipshook, who sat across from her. Fortunately Georgia Schulyer sat on her other side.

"Cody, darling, tell us a little about yourself," said Georgia, genuinely curious.

"You didn't go to Hogwarts, did you?" asked Oliver, not remembering her.

"No. No, I went to Dilloarmo—it's a magical school in Canada with a heavy emphasis on Muggle Studies as well as stronger magic."

"Really?" asked Oliver, truly interested now. "How come?"

Cody took her time chewing before finally swallowing. "My maternal grandmother was a Squib, so she lived like a Muggle, for the most part. She thought that I would benefit from getting a deeper understanding of what it would be like to not have magic, all the while learning some of the stronger stuff." Cody took a swig of her wine, a little uncomfortable. "My mother went there. It's a great school, really. I learned loads."

"So did you have to do some things manually, sans magic?" asked Georgia.

"Yeah, at times."

"Oh, wow. I can't imagine living without magic," said Georgia.

"I can," said Oliver cockily. "Muggles have it easy," he claimed, spearing a lush pea with his fork and waving it around as he spoke. "What with cars and electricity—"

Cody snorted loudly. "Yeah. Right. I bet you couldn't even last a day without magic." At this the room had gone silent as all team members abruptly broke off their own conversations and turned to hear Oliver's reply.

"I bet I could. Twenty-four hours of no magic would be _easy_."

Hipshook looked at him, a bemused spark twinkling in his eye. "I may just take you up on that, Mr. Wood," he said mysteriously.

"Ooh," whistled Mockridge gleefully. "Wood, you'd better watch your back!"

"Hipshook's scheming," chimed in Fenwicke deviously. "What're you planning, old man?"

Hipshook merely shook his head and laughed. "You'll find out soon enough." He frowned. "I'm no old man, young'un!"

The night air felt deliciously cool and refreshing on Cody's face as the team ambled outside onto the side walk. Mellow from dinner and good wine, they reluctantly bade each other goodbye. Cody personally felt much better now, after having bonded, especially with Georgia. The older woman had a bit of a maternal air, despite her misleading appearance.

Soon, only Body, Oliver, Georgia and Hipshook remained outside of House of Mouse. "Well, I'm off as well; I've got a meeting with the League officials tomorrow. Hopefully we'll get the final details of the exhibition match sorted out," said Hipshook. He paused. "Cody, are you going to be able to get home okay?"

Cody waved his concerns away. "Oh yeah, sure. I'll just apparate and—"

"You don't live within River Piddle limits, do you?" asked Oliver, his eyes bulging slightly.

"No…" Cody smacked herself. "Oh crap. The anti-apparation charms; I totally forgot."

Oliver looked at his watch. "It's quarter to twelve," he grumbled. "I'll hail you a cab."

"Er," began Cody sheepishly. "I don't have any muggle money on me." A quick survey revealed that nor did Hipshook or Georgia.

Oliver groaned in frustration. "Well… about how far away do you live, anyway?"

"We're on the outskirts of River Piddle already, right? Not much… only about a half hour's brisk walk. Give or take a little."

Oliver sighed tiredly. Hipshook wouldn't be able to accompany her, due to his meeting the next day. "Georgia," he said tentatively. "Perhaps you could escort Cody—"

"Escort? I can get home on my own just fine, thanks very much!" exclaimed Cody indignantly.

"I will not have my Seeker taking such a trivial risk! Who knows who—or what—is out there to threaten Puddlemere's chances?"

"Sorry, Captain," said Georgia apologetically. "But no can do. A lady's got to get her beauty rest, you know." She indicated herself. "Look this good doesn't just happen," she winked.

"Alright, alright, I'll walk you home myself," grumbled Oliver.

"Honestly, that's just not necessary," protested Cody.

Georgia grabbed her arm. "It's alright, kiddo. Oliver here was raised old-fashioned." She tapped the side of her nose conspiratorially. "I'm sure he'll be on his best behaviour; no ulterior motives."

"Really," Cody tried again, "it's just not necessary. I'm a fully capable witch."

"I'm sure you are," said Oliver agreeablely, "but it's only been a year since the Battle of Hogwarts," he paused, choking up slightly. "And it's still quite dangerous right now. Frankly, the team just can't take that sort of risk right now."

"Wood," Cody said. "You're only my Quidditch captain, really, I can take care of myself perfectly fine, so you don't need to feel obligated—"

"I don't. I want to."

Seeing her reluctant expression, Georgia laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Cody, just stop being so stubborn so that we can all go home already."

And so, the moon shone brightly in the sky, casting an uncanny glow over everything as Oliver and Cody found themselves walking along, silent but for the crickets chirping in the grass. A slight breeze blew through, creating just enough of a chill for the air to feel crisp and fresh.

"Sorry," Cody mumbled, as their hands brushed accidentally yet again because their arms swung out of sync.

"It's alright."

Another few seconds passed as each chose to simply enjoy the night. There seemed to be a crackling energy in the air, fully charged and raging to strike.

An unexpected crash resounded from the right. Cody jerked nervously, instinctively grabbing Oliver's arm as she let out a little squeak, her other hand grasping her wand. A lone black cat strutted right in front of her brandished wand, looking at her cockily.

Scowling, Cody replaced her wand and released Oliver's arm as he burst into peals of mirthful laughter.

When he finally settled down, Oliver had an impish look on his face. "So, you know ho much a Hungarian Horntail weights?"

"No. How much?"

"Enough to break the ice!" he chuckled a little. "But seriously, do tell me about yourself. I'm curious—our conversation had been interrupted. Why did you come back from Canada?"

Cody hesitated. "To continue my education," she said finally, deciding that that was probably a pretty safe answer. "What about you? How did you get started at Puddlemere U?"

Oliver grinned. "We can't all catch lucky breaks like you. I was scouted, back at Hogwarts. Seventh year, we, as in Gryffindor, won the Quidditch Cup. I was reserve Keeper for Puddlemere but because of how simply spectacular I am," here he put on a pompous air to show that he was merely kidding, "I was soon promoted." A pause. "And recently, I made Captain. An impressive feat, hmm?"

"Indeed."

They passed an elderly couple, also out for a late night stroll.

"Hello," murmured Cody.

"Out for a walk?" asked the older gentleman kindly.

"It's a beautiful night," said Oliver amicably.

The elderly lady frowned slightly. "You kids better hurry home—a storm is on the way."

Cody and Oliver nodded, although both felt highly sceptical. Wrongly believing that the two were out of earshot, the elderly couple continued discussion of them.

"Such a cute couple. They do seem a bit young though."

"I swear, Betty, they're getting younger by the day."

Cody turned angrily, sputtering to correct them, but Oliver looped an arm around her. "Let it go, Wronski. A simple mistake."

"We're not—that was a wrong assumption…"

"Muggles, probably. Just be glad they didn't recognize us. Besides, don't eavesdrop."

Suddenly, it seemed as if the sky opened up and began pouring its sustenance upon them. Cool drops of water drifted down from the sky, splashing against the ground and bouncing back up again, just a little. Puddles began to form on the uneven ground.

Cody let out an exhilarated squeal, while Oliver laughed beside her. "Old hag was right, after all."

The rain hardened, coming down in bigger torrents, drenching the two. A deafening crack of thunder slashed through the night, overpowering the swooshing and clicking of the rain.

Cody grabbed Oliver's arm. "Come on!" and the two ran towards Cody's flat, both aware that lightning could be well on its way.

Thoroughly drenched, the pair reached Cody's flat in record time, their clothes clinging to their skin, hair plastered against their faces. A slight mist rose up from the ground, and a tongue of lightning lit up the sky just as they stepped inside.

Neither completely sober, they couldn't help but let out a few laughs at their late night adventure. Cody sombered up first. "You can't apparate home, can you?"

"No. But if your Floo—"

Cody looked sheepish again. "I've been meaning to refill my Floo powder, but haven't quite gotten around to it yet." She looked around. "My couch is really spacious; if you don't mind the slightly cramped quarters, you could spend the night here."

"It's fine, don't worry about it."

"Wood, I feel bad enough as it is, first having you walk me home and then getting you soaked in that storm… let me just play gracious host a bit."

"Wronski—"

"You're Captain of Muddle—I mean, Puddlemere United; I'm pretty sure they've run rather comprehensive background checks." Another huge strike of lightning flashed through the night sky, accompanied by a large crack of thunder. "It's just one night; and we get the entire day off tomorrow…"

Hesitantly Oliver looked out the window. She was right, of course. He'd be absolutely crazy to try to get home in this. "Alright… thanks for the offer."

"Great!" Cody smiled brightly. "Come on in; let's get out of these soaking wet clothes first." It was going to be an interesting night.

* * *

**End Note: **_I hope it's not moving too fast, and that their actions were credible. As always, feedback would be really helpful; what you liked/disliked, etc. _


	4. Chapter 4

Cody woke up feeling a little off. Quite queerly, she felt as though either something really important had happened which she could not seem to recall, or that something of colossal importance was about to happen but she could not, for the life of her, remember what. Secondly, she felt a burning need to pee. There was also a slightly foul aftertaste in her mouth, probably due to the remnants of last nights wine fermenting overnight. Nasty.

A few beams of sunlight streamed through her crooked curtains which she'd hastily yanked shut last night before diving into bed. Cody groaned, clutching her head and squeezing her eyes closed as she swung her legs over the side of her bed. Not quite a hangover, but definitely not a pleasant feeling. She slowly opened one eye, then the other, and chanced a glance at the clock. Just barely past eight. Way too early for a Sunday morning.

Using the walls as support, Cody hobbled into her bathroom and relieved herself. She stood stationary for a second, contemplating, then began to brush her teeth methodically, almost subconsciously. It felt easier this way, not having to think. Unfortunately, something was still bothering her; why couldn't she remember what it was?

Shrugging a little apprehensively, Cody swished some mouthwash though her teeth for half a minute. She was really starting to worry now; if only that thick brown envelope from Hippograph would arrive… then she could fully relax. Well, perhaps not _relax,_ per se, as it would indicate a monumental amount of work to come, but at the very least stop _worrying_ incessantly. She was nearly convinced that premature worry lines were beginning to appear on her face.

Looking down, Cody noticed that her matching Jimmy the Fooh pyjama shorts were slightly crooked. She straightened them and realized that her legs were quite dry and cracked. Distractedly, she reached up behind the bathroom sink mirror and got her bottle of honey, then proceeded to slather the viscous substance all over her legs. She hesitated for a minute, then decided to apply an avocado face mask as well; the alcohol didn't exactly work wonders for her skin.

"I'll go boil some water for coffee, then take a shower," she decided, and headed out towards her kitchen, padding out of the bathroom on bare feet, which were below legs that were also bare save for the coating of golden honey.

As she reached the doorway of her kitchen, Cody froze. Her eyes bore into the back of her couch, where a corner of one of her old comforters was swung over the side. Her heart began to hammer as she approached the couch, her head throbbing without comprehension and her vision not completely crystal clear.

The door spun uncomfortably as she grasped her wand and held it out in front of her, not quite menacingly. Letting out a blood curdling war cry, Cody jumped forward and jabbed her wand at the lump located beneath the familiar comforter.

Oliver Wood, who until bare moments ago had been sound asleep, abruptly woke up at the sudden screech. His eyes shot wide open, only to be met by a face close to his own, clumpy green in color and rather reminiscent of a swamp monster.

Letting out a roar of his own, he scrambled to get away from this atrocity but managed to only fall rather painfully off of the couch, hopelessly tangled up in his blankets. His brain was acting on autopilot, and he groped around for his wand, but before he could find it, his attacker appeared to get a grasp on the situation.

"Oliver?" said the green faced swamp monster, letting her wand fall. A hand flew to her mouth. "Ohmigosh, I'm _so _sorry! I totally forgot--didn't mean to scare you or anything--"

Oliver squinted at his newly requited Seeker. "What're you playing at, woman?" he roared, a few drops of spit flying from his mouth. His chest was still heaving heavily from his early morning scare. Unbelievable. _This_ was what he was stuck with as a _Seeker?_ A little part of him died inside; they were so screwed.

"Er…" said Cody meekly.

"Scared the shit out me there! Fine way to treat your captain." He took in her face mask. "And what the hell _is_ that?" he demanded, pointing at her face mask. "You look like a swamp monster," he added as an afterthought.

"I'm moisturizing," said Cody a little defensively. "Not my fault I was genetically plagued with dry skin." She was starting to get annoyed now. "Damn wine from last night… I knew I was forgetting _something_. Not thinking very clearly this morning…"

Oliver gave her a lopsided grin. "Nah, it's alright. I don't seem to be having a heart attack, so no harm done. Well… that's not entirely true either." He stood up and circled round the couch, and Cody was suddenly struck by the their close proximity and his formidable figure, not to mention his finely formed features. Oliver glanced down and noticed her legs. "What is that?"

"Honey."

"I'm not even going to ask."

"Good."

He let out a snigger. "Jimmy the Fooh pyjamas. Really, Wronski?"

"They're really comfy," protested Cody, starting to smile as well in spite of herself.

Oliver guffawed. "Great. Just wonderful. I've hired a twelve year old child for my new Seeker!" Cody tossed a pillow at his head. Oliver ducked, laughing.

"Know how to cook, Wronski?"

"Yeah," came the indignant reply.

"Okay. I'll make you some of my world class famous pancakes. Special occasion and all that. Guarantee they'll be better than anything you'd be able to whip up."

"Oh ho! Is that a challenge, Wood?"

"Is that how you see it, Wronski?"

"My waffles are so many times better than any flapjacks of yours," retorted Cody.

Puzzled, Oliver cocked his left eyebrow. "Flapjacks? Waffles?"

"Right, I forgot. Flapjacks is just another word for pancakes. Waffles… Wood, you've seriously never had waffles before?"

"Unless there's another term for those as well, no."

Cody paused, thinking how best to explain it. "We-ell… waffles are basically made from the same batter as pancakes, usually. The difference lies in the fact that waffles have _texture_." She nodded to herself a little. "The texture is everything."

"Texture?" echoed Oliver, looking a bit sceptical.

"Yeah, I'll show you in a second. I've gotta go wash this gunk off," said Cody, indicating her green face mask and legs husked in honey, which drew a laugh from Oliver, "but in the meantime, why don't you go boil some water for tea--or coffee, if that's what you prefer."

* * *

Twenty minutes later Cody walked silently through her kitchen doorway and froze slightly. Oliver had his back to her, humming slightly and seeming oblivious to her presence. His dark caramel hair was slightly mussed from sleep, sticking up a smidgeon more on the left side. Begrudgingly, Cody had to admit that he did have rather nicely toned legs and arms. She could definitely see why _Playwitch _magazine chose to repeatedly feature him.

But more disturbingly, he seemed to almost fit in her kitchen. A sense of belonging, almost, and for a brief moment Cody had a sliver of thought; perhaps it was of the deepest insight, or perhaps it was simply silly folly. For some bizarre reason, imagining Oliver as a family man, not necessarily with anyone in particular, but just in general, seemed shockingly fitting. Cody shook her head vehemently--who was she to judge? After all, her own perceptions of family were warped beyond recognition to normal people. She took a step forward and immediately stubbed her toe on a chair leg. "Oh--for the love of Musty Merlin--"

Startled for the second time that morning, Oliver spun around. "Wronski? Took you long enough--I've made enough batter for both my pancakes and your waffles. I would've waited to just beat you in cooking, but I got hungry." He looked at her clutching her toe. "Er--are you alright?"

"Dandy!" squeaked out Cody, a octave higher than her regular speaking voice. Wincing a little, she straightened up, walked over to her new Quidditch captain, and peeked into the bowl at the batter. Sensually, she dipped in a slim albeit slightly strangely shaped index finger and slowly licked the batter off. "Mmm… gotta tell you, Wood, as much as it pains me to say so, so far so good."

Oliver looked at her incredulously. "Good? Only good?" he thundered.

"Well, what am I supposed to say?"

"How about 'magnificent', or 'best batter I've ever tasted', or 'Oliver, you're the most talented person I've ever had the fortune to meet in my life'?"

Cody laughed. "Don't be silly, Wood." A mischievous grin took over her features, her whole face lighting up. "Besides, I'd call it more of a _mis_fortune, if you catch my drift. It's decent now, but I'm sure it'll taste awesome once they've got some texture." She nudged Oliver a bit and reached into the cupboard for her waffle pan. "Here," she said, taking the batter bowl from Oliver, their hands brushing briefly in the process. She poured in some of the viscous substance and plugged in the waffle pan.

"Should we use the rest for pancakes?"

Oliver hesitated. "Nah. You say that the… texture really makes that much of a difference?" Receiving a nod, he continued, "Well then, waffles it is." A devilish look flitted across his face. He dipped in three fingers so that they were covered by the goo, and then proceeded to flick them at Cody.

Surprised, Cody let out a little squeak. "What was that for?"

Oliver could barely reply through his laughter. "The look," he sputtered in between peals of laughter, "on your face. Priceless!"

"In that case," Cody grinned back before retaliating with her own handful of gooey batter.

Before long, the situation had escalated to a full blown batter fight, the two jumping and twirling around the small kitchen, seeming almost as if they alone were engaged in a spiritual dance. Batter flew everywhere, coating the walls and floors while the waffles cooked calmly and unaffected on the counter.

Finally, the batter ran out and Oliver approached Cody cautiously, one hand extended. "Truce, truce!" he cried.

But just as their hands clasped, Oliver slipped on a puddle of batter on the now slippery linoleum, dragging Cody down with him.

"Oomph," Cody said, flinging the last of the batter from her fingers at him as they landed painfully beside each other on the cold, hard, unforgiving floor. "Ouch."

Simultaneously, they each individually noticed their suddenly close proximity to each other. Cody's hair brushed against Oliver's upper arm, tickling him slightly. Oliver's breath blew caressingly against Cody's bare shoulder exposed by her Jimmy the Fooh tank top.

Oliver cleared his throat a little uncomfortably. Both of them were covered pretty much head to toe in batter.

Cody laughed a little nervously, border lining hysteria. How did she manage to get into such a situation with someone she barely knew, and her Quidditch captain to boot?

Oliver laughed too. "You look ridiculous."

"You're not looking much better yourself, Wood."

He grinned. "At least we've got the rest of the day off; we've some serious cleaning up to do."

**

* * *

Author's Note: **_A fair bit of Oliver/Cody fluff this chapter, hopefully it wasn't too much or too cliche (was it?). I seem to have temporarily misplaced the story outline notes, so this may have deviated a little from the original plan. There's probably going to be more action next chapter though. Look at that; three chapters within a relatively short time of each other. You know what that means :) Reviews, feedback, concrit is greatly appreciated. _


	5. Chapter 5

Monday morning dawned grey and much too early for Cody's tastes. She woken up to discover that she'd overslept and had precisely a quarter of an hour to get on the Quidditch pitch, prepared for the day's training – without a doubt it would be a brutal practice. Needless to point out, it wasn't the best way to start off a Monday morning.

Her heart pumping at a speed she was sure was well beyond the norm, Cody hobbled into the shower, in and out in under five minutes. Grabbing the nearest set of sweats, Cody stumbled out of her flat and waved her wand, sending out white wisps of a Patronous to deliver a message. She hopped onto her broom, leaned down toward the handle, and took a deep breath. Her progress had leapt and bound since that – that _tryout_ – when she'd finally gotten back on a broom. But it was still shaky progress. Slowly, the air was released from her lungs, her saturated cells begging for air.

She gritted her teeth, and pushed off from the ground. The first fear of flight tormented her momentarily, a shaky feeling in her stomach. But as she gained altitude, it lessened, squashed down, until it was exterminated altogether by the ecstasy of flight.

Cody landed heavily on the dirt pitch, stumbling a bit on her landing, then tucked her broom under her arm while quickly gathering up her still damp hair and tying a quick bun while running towards the center of the pitch where the rest of the team was gathered around Hipshook. At least they couldn't exactly _fire_ her from the team, as if she were working at a fast food place.

Due to her rushing, Cody neglected to watch her step and, just her luck, promptly crashed into Wood. Both froze momentarily upon seeing the other, and Mockridge, being a rather observant Beater, looked from one to the other.

"Oi, Wood. Is that a _blus_hI see creeping up your cheek?" In turn he looked at Cody. "Okay… what am I missing here?" He chuckled a little, his tone taking on a teasing tone. "Oh ho! Did you two get down and dirrrty or something?" Mockridge mocked.

"Wronski!" Oliver Wood thundered finally, hoping to disguise the awkward situation – unfortunately his delayed reaction only augmented it. "You're six minutes late – not only are you setting the entire team behind schedule, you're wasting everybody's precious practice time. And Merlin knows that we're lacking that badly enough already." Shoot, spoke too soon.

"S-sorry, I'm sorry," stammered Cody, trying to catch her breath.

Both had decided to ignore Mockridge's innuendos, but the man in question didn't appear to have received the memo. He continued to look from one to the other, his face lighting up in glee at the possible gossip this could potentially seed.

"It's alright, Cody," Hipshook cut in kindly before Wood could get another reprimand in edgewise. Cody shot him a grateful look. "Just make sure that it doesn't happen again. " He clapped his hands together, holding them out in front of his rather rotund belly. "I do realize that this is rather short notice, but we've got an exhibition match scheduled for the upcoming weekend – mind you, it's rather last minute because the Ministry was in debates about whether to even allow Quidditch League matches to be held this year until recently, what with … the things that have been happening and all. But it was decided that it would be in the best interest of the general wizarding community to continue."

He paused, licking his lips, and Oliver continued. "The match will be held on Saturday at nine o'clock in the morning, against the Chudley Canons."

"The Chudley Canons?" burst out Fenwicke incredulously. "This'll be a snap then!"

Oliver regarded him solemnly. "What with two new members – especially with the minimal amount of training time we've had as a team – it's in our best interest to try hard, work out any kinks before the Preliminaries."

"Just as well," agreed Georgia. "Calm down, Fenwicke. This isn't a demotion of any sort."

"I suggest you lot all pack sufficient attire and gold," continued Hipshook. "Our plans for the rest of the trip to Chudley are tentative at the moment, of course, as all depends on when the game finishes, but on Sunday night there's a charity social being held to raise funds for dragon reserves. A good mate of mine is helping to host, so we're to be the guests of honor, circumstances permitting." He took a large breath, and then blew it out slowly through his nostrils. "It will be good publicity as well, in addition – and Merlin knows that we could dearly use some of that, especially after what happened at – at the end of last season."

Seeing how uncomfortable Mockridge was, Oliver took it upon himself to continue. "If all goes appropriately, we might be able to give a press conference Sunday afternoon, try to dispel some of the ill tasted rumors surrounding our newest members."

Cody stomach chose that exact moment to give a loud growl. Sheepishly, she grinned. "Sorry – didn't have time for breakfast – I've sent for some –"

"We'll begin practice today with the physical," began Wood, talking over her embarrassed explanations. "Then over lunch in the meeting room we'll discuss some specific strategies, pinpoint their weaknesses, etc. Fifteen flying laps around the pitch; now."

* * *

Fifteen flying laps, five running laps, fifty crunches, forty push-ups, and five rounds of scrimmages later, Oliver finally let his team go for lunch. "I expect you all to be in the meeting room in no more than ten minutes, ready to discuss plays for Saturday!" he called after them as they charged for the change rooms.

"Merlin's Beard," Cody said to Demelza and Georgia in the privacy of the change room, away from the prying ears of Oliver Wood. "That was in_tense._" Then seeing a large tawny owl on the bench with a large brown paper bag attached to it, Cody grinned and roused her muscles enough to hop on over. She slipped a few knuts and sickles into the owl's pouch and took the brown paper bag, then quickly scrawled a note of thanks down and slid that into the pouch as well before the owl took off.

Suddenly in a much better mood, Cody threw an excited look at Demelza and Georgia. "C'mon, we'd better hurry up before the Drill Sergeant flips out at us again."

"Why are you so excited?" grumbled Georgia, a little befuzzled.

"Hey now, it's lunch time!" She led the way out of the change room towards the meeting hall, a slight bounce in her step, while a tired looking Georgia dragged her way behind her, with a still slightly scared Demelza bringing up the rear. Cody made a mental note to try and be nice to her – after all, it must be hard to go straight into pro Quidditch at such a young age, especially making the team under the circumstances of lack of qualified candidates, rather than extreme talent. Even so, Demelza quite clearly had an abundance of potential; if she got over being shy, there was no limit to what she could potentially accomplish.

Oliver barely looked up from his large sheets of pie charts and diagrams as the ladies entered. They settled down into the deep navy blue velveteen chairs around the polished mahogany table. The rest of the team trickled in steadily over the course of the next few minutes, none of them particularly craving a brush with Wood's temper – Cody was quickly deducing that he was not one to be trifled with on the subject of punctuality.

Roger looked at Cody's brown paper bag with keen interest. "Oi Cody, is that – I mean, well, of course – from Martha Tinsel's Patisserie?"

At this Oliver looked up from his notes sharply, sending an indecipherable look at Roger. This, however, escaped Cody's notice and she responded to the question rather obliviously. "Yeah, as a matter of fact, it is. I've recently become a regular at Martha's, since moving back here from Canada – she's such a sweet person. I've had this Owled over because of my late start this morning. And she makes such delicious treats too, it's no wonder she's been so successful!"

"No to mention young—" began Fenwicke.

"Our age, or thereabouts—" continued Mockridge.

"And—" here Fenwicke let out a whistle, "be-au-ti-ful!"

"That's enough," cut in Wood sharply. "I believe it's time we started discussing the actual matters at hand," he said, a strained expression adorning his face and tightening his mouth.

"Oh, don't mind them, Wood. They're just having some fun. Why don't you begin?" drawled Georgia.

As Wood did so, Cody slowly took out her rather non healthy lunch from the bag slowly, savoring the craving, the anticipation. The bag crinkled slightly as she did so, and a brief annoyed look crossed Oliver's face. She picked up the small cakes wrapped in pink paper, the still warm cookies tucked into little envelopes, and the small bag of _Ruffles _chips that Martha had ordered specifically for her from Canada. Sure, there were _Walkers _crisps here, which were basically the same as _Lays _chips over in North America, but just like the waffles, it was all about the _texture. _

Glancing slyly at Wood, who was droning on, before speaking, Fenwicke whispered, "What're those?"

"Just some special crisps that I asked Martha to specially order in; want to try one?"

"Sure!"

And then the bag was torn open, as carefully and quietly as possible, but it attracted the attention of Wood anyway. He looked at them, not even bothering to disguise the look of annoyance on his face any longer.

"Wronski. You shouldn't be eating those unhealthy foods at all – especially now, at this most crucial period in our training. Our season has just begun! Our first exhibition match is coming up. What is the meaning of indulging in such unseemly practices, in addition to … to _seducing_ fellow team members to follow suit, now? After today, I will not allow anything even moderately classifiable as junk food, from that store or otherwise, in my sight during this season. Is that understood?"

Wood reached down, and then tossed a small plastic baggie of carrots at Cody. "Here."

Cody looked at the offered food incredulously. "What do you take me for, a r_abbit_?" She held the bag of crisps out under Oliver's nose. "Smell that. Go on, smell it." She grinned. "Want one? Come on, you know you want to try one."

For a moment, Oliver's eyes clouded and a rather odd expression that Cody couldn't quite name crossed his face. "No," he said finally. "Thanks."

"So, Oliver," began Roger prudently, sensing the tension in the air. "Keep explaining that new play you came up with – I'm not quite sure I understood…"

And with that, Oliver Wood was off and running, passionately gesturing with all his limbs and even the tone, inflection, and pace of his voice.

**

* * *

**

**Note:**

_Why is Oliver so uptight about Martha Tinsel? And who is she really? Is Mockridge starting to catch on about what transpired between Oliver and Cody? Stay tuned to find out!_

_Hehe, quite a few questions aroused in this chapter, but at least it didn't end off with a cliffie, so it all balances out. Thanks to everyone who's provided feedback on the story or faved it. You guys rock :)_

_As always, parts you did/didn't like, feedback, concrit, etc. is greatly encouraged and appreciated. It really helps the story along. 'Til next time!_


	6. Chapter 6

Cody groaned inwardly again as she was thrown harshly against Gavin Fenwicke's side. He looked at her and grinned slightly, and Cody gave him a quick sarcastic smile before straightening back up. She turned her attention back to her slightly temperamental Captain who was sitting across from them. _Damn him_, she thought bitterly, marvelling at how he managed to remain perfectly stoic and upright despite how much the Knight bus tossed them around. She felt like a bead in one of those bright plastic baby shakers or something.

Even though it was only an exhibition match, and against the Chudley Cannons, no more, Cody was rather excited, but more nervous than anything else. This was her first match in the pro leagues – and there was bound to be a lot of press present, in addition to the hardcore fans.

The team had gathered bright and early and took a Port Key to get as close to Chudley limits as allowed by the safety wards before flagging down the Knight Bus. Cody let the air whoosh out through her slightly dry and cracked lips slowly. At least the team administration had taken their gear to the Stadium and hotel for them. She was feeling quite nauseous, to be honest.

At the noise of Cody's deep sigh, Oliver looked up at her sharply, despite having put on an act of indifferent contemplation only seconds before. "What's up?" he asked.

Cody looked back at him, a little bit annoyed. For the past week he had been distant, barely civil when talking to her—really, he criticized everything she did—or didn't—do. "Nothing," she said at last.

Fenwicke looked at her a little curiously, but didn't push the matter. Luckily, he had a little more tact than the other bouncy Beater. He gave her another lopsided grin. "Don't worry about it, Cody-bee, I'm sure you'll do great."

Both Oliver and Cody snapped their attention to Fenwicke at the nickname he had just employed. Cody looked at him questioningly, and Fenwicke let out a hearty laugh, gently poking her nose. "Cody-bee," he repeated. "It's got a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

Cody laughed. "Fly like a bee?"

"Sure."

The Knight bus jolted to a sudden halt again and Cody shot off the hard plastic purple seat, Fenwicke reaching out a hand and grabbing her just before she collided with Oliver. He pulled her up into a standing position. "Come on, Cody-bee, you ready?"

Cody nodded meekly, and the team members of Puddlemere United trooped single file off the magical purple triple-decker bus. She looked around inquisitively; they had been deposited by a hidden door on the side of the Chudley Stadium.

Hipshook pushed his way through to the front of the group and approached the large ornamental rock. He bent down and tapped it three times in quick succession, and then it rolled to the side to reveal an entrance. A match official dressed in bright orange robes with two intertwining _C_'s and a speeding canon ball on his chest appeared from the entrance and nodded at them.

"Welcome to Chudley," he boomed warmly, "now if you'll follow me..." He turned and led the way down the stairs, and the team followed him through an underground passage way to reach the visiting team lounge and change rooms.

"There's about an hour until noon; the match starts at promptly one o'clock this afternoon," he informed them.

Hipshook nodded. "Alright, that's fine, thank you," he said with a tone of finality, indicating that he should leave them alone now.

He nodded, taking the hint. "If there's anything you need..." He snapped them a crisp wave and exited the room.

Oliver strode over and shut the door of the lounge firmly. A sufficient buffet was located on long tables covered by orange tablecloths by the side wall. Oliver gestured at it, swallowing then clearing his throat. "Help yourselves," he said. "Our uniforms and brooms have already been brought to the change rooms; I'll give a brief final rundown of our strategy after you guys have had a bite to eat—I can see Mockridge getting impatient over there."

Mockridge flashed him a toothy grin, and then ran a hand through his rich chestnut hair, spiking it back up. "Alright – I'm starved!"

Georgia shook her head at him disapprovingly. "How you can manage to eat like a Hippogriff at a time like this is well beyond me. Take care you don't get any cramps, yeah?"

Mockridge, who had already begun shovelling food onto his plate, turned and grinned at her. "Yes, I know, _mother._"

Georgia smacked him over the head and grabbed Cody's arm dragging her over to the table.

Cody regarded the food uneasily. She turned to the older Chaser and whispered, "I—I'm actually kind of nervous..."

Georgia spared her a glance, then seeing that Cody actually looked a little green around the edges, she reached down and plucked a sunshine yellow banana and handed it over. "Here—potassium will give you more energy," she advised.

"Thanks," Cody said gratefully, taking it and then plopping down on the velveteen couch—also orange with a cannon ball silhouette print. Slowly she peeled it open and bit into the soft fruit, savouring the taste and smell as it assaulted her senses gently.

Cody was jostled slightly as Demelza settled down onto the couch beside her with a bunch of grapes. She plucked one translucent green grape off and turned it around in her fingers for a while, eyes downcast.

"Hey," Cody said, drawing her attention. Demelza looked up at her, wide-eyed.

"How are you holding up?" she asked.

Demelza turned back to the grape, and whispered, "a bit nervous. Jittery, like butterflies in the bottom of my stomach." She turned back up. "It's a lot more nerve-wracking than even the Quidditch Cup Final," she said. "I mean, it's been my dream for so long, to be a professional Quidditch player, and I guess I'm practically there, but it just feels so much more real now—today—because it's like the first match. Even if it's only an exhibition match, you know?"

Cody nodded. "I know exactly what you mean—I'm a little nervous myself. But I guess we just have to know that we have to do our best, and let the cards fall where they may. Worrying about it too much won't make much of a difference."

Demelza nodded. "I suppose... still feeling a bit nauseous though." She popped the grape into her mouth.

Feeling a magnetic force, Cody looked up to see Oliver looking at her with a curious expression on her face. It looked... almost _frustrated_. Which was really weird. Cody looked away quickly, and instantly regretted it, wishing that she had been brave enough to stare him down, ask him what his problem was.

Her attention was diverted again however, when Demelza suddenly shot up and ran towards the lavatories.

"Whoa!" exclaimed Mockridge as she nearly crashed into him in her haste.

Cody got up and made to follow, but Georgia held up a hand. "It's okay, I'll go," the older woman said, putting down her plate.

Cody nodded numbly and sat back down on the sofa, rubbing her temples. The couch jostled again and this time when she opened her eyes she realized that she had been joined by none other than Oliver Wood.

She simply stared at him in silence.

"Hey..." he started.

"What's up with you?" Cody cut in.

He looked taken aback. "Pardon?"

Cody looked at him pointedly, and he glanced away sheepishly, turning his head to face forward. "I—that—about last—" Cody simply continued to look at him, slightly annoyed. She had thought they had started bonding, a friendship of sorts, perhaps, after the batter mishap in her kitchen. But quite obviously, he didn't feel the same.

"Look," Oliver said thickly at last, "you don't understand—"

"What don't I understand? Only, I'm not quite sure I _know_ either," Cody said shortly, feeling a bit of her destructive stubborn side taking over.

Oliver stood up suddenly. "You have no idea," he said stoutly and then turned away to address the team, charging them to gather round.

Cody numbly tuned out the rest of the Oliver's spiel with last minute instructions before sending them off to change. She was functioning subconsciously now—her mind was entirely elsewhere, wondering exactly what she had no idea about. Her mind continued to wander as she followed Georgia and Demelza—who now felt much better after throwing up the contents of her breakfast—into the ladies' change room.

The room was fairly spacious with wooden benches and tiled walls—also a vibrant orange shade. "Oh well," sighed Cody quietly; at least if her mind was elsewhere, she wouldn't have to be nervous before the match. The one downside was that she needed to hurry up and get her mind back in the game before the match started.

All of a sudden Georgia stepped up behind her and grabbed her wrists together with one strong hand and clapped the other over her eyes. "Cody!" she shouted, causing the aforementioned to jump into the air, startled. "Come on, _focus_."

Once she was released, Cody nodded. "Focus," she repeated. "Right, focus. Okay, I'm focused."

Georgia nodded in satisfaction and Cody continued to pull on her Quidditch uniform. The material felt amazing, optimized air flow and breathability, super light, sweat absorbent. Her robes were navy blue with two golden bulrushes crossed on her chest and _Wronski_ stencilled on the back in official Puddlemere font. She then pulled on her pads, making sure everything was secured.

"Ready?" Demelza asked from the door, where the two were waiting.

"As I'll ever be."

And the three ladies stepped out into the sun to join the other half of their team in marching proudly towards the field, Firebolts tucked under each of their arms.

Once they got the door leading to the Quidditch field, a volunteer there instructed them to mount their brooms and wait for his signal, then fly out.

"And—here comes Puddlemere United!" shouted the announcer excitedly, and, led by Oliver Wood, the entire team flew out in quick succession, flying a display lap merely for aesthetic purposes.

"Wood—Mockridge—Fenwicke—Schulyer—Robins—Davies—and... Wronski!"

They were greeted with loud cheers from blue and yellow clad supporters, and a group of more outspoken fans burst into song, with "Beat back those Bludgers, boys, and chuck that Quaffle here!"

"Alright!" exclaimed the announcer over the roar of the appreciative crowd. "And here is your home team—the Chudley Cannons!" Seven orange and black clad players zoomed impressively into the air of the field, and took their lap as the announcer continued, "I present: Hawkins—Vance—Toothill—Jenkins—Gorgovitch—Sawbridge—and...Gudgeon!"

The two teams landed gracefully on the fresh grass pitch, facing each other fiercely.

"The referee—Mr. Widdershins!"

"Dear Merlin," Cody thought to herself, now thoroughly gutted by the prospect of actually playing Quidditch in front of...in front of _so many_ people. Hardcore Quidditch fans too, no less. She clutched her broom tighter.

The referee walked forward, and charged Wood and Toothill to shake hands. "Ready. " He released the Golden Snitch and everyone's eyes followed it momentarily before it zipped out of sight.

"Set." The two Bludgers were released.

"Takeoff!" and the Quaffle was tossed up.

And thirteen players shot back up into the air, each rushing to play their roles. Cody felt the wind whoosh past her from the force of all their brooms, steeled herself, and tried to calm her beating heart, and then shot up after them. Her palms felt exceptionally sweaty and her arms were shaking, having a little trouble gripping the broom tightly. Hence, the broom shook along with her and she flew higher into the air, hoping that others wouldn't notice.

It was so clear and beautiful up here, gentle white clouds grazing overhead, the action of the Quidditch match below her. She tuned out the announcer for a while, and started to search for the Snitch. The opposing Seeker, Gudgeon, had followed her up. He smirked at her.

What a foul man, she concluded, and scowled at him before diving a little lower. She scanned the skies, looking for the Snitch but simultaneously keeping an eye on Gudgeon. After all, this was only an exhibition match so she had better let the others have their fun first.

Demelza Robins caught the Quaffle deftly from Georgia and shot off towards the goal posts. When Vance pelted a Bludger at her, she faked right and then passed the Quaffle to Roger on her left, who made a beautiful goal.

"Twenty—nothing for Puddlemere!"

Cody cheered along with her team, until Toothill sent a nasty Bludger at Georgia, who was forced to drop the Quaffle. Sawbridge picked it up eagerly and shot off towards Wood, who made a spectacular save. She breathed a sigh of relief, until a Bludger came charging at her head.

Cody swung around, barely dodging it. She mentally berated herself for getting caught up in watching and flew a little higher again to continue to search for the Snitch.

Suddenly Gudgeon came out of nowhere and streaked past her; Cody rushed to catch up until they were flying side by side. He reached out and shoved her away, then grabbed her robes and yanked her back, forcing them towards the pitch at a phenomenal speed. Luckily, Fenwicke noticed and shot a well-aimed Bludger at Gudgeon, forcing him to release Cody.

Giving the other Seeker with a look of disgust, Cody shot back up, thoroughly disappointed with herself for having fallen for the ploy. She tuned back in to hear the announcer say, "Forty—ten for Puddlemere!"

She looked round in shock; had they been able to score on _Wood_? And this early in the game too? Maybe they shouldn't underestimate the Chudley Cannons this year—they seemed to have put together a decent team.

As the minutes passed, however, Puddlemere managed to pull ahead again, thanks to a combination of Wood's magnificent Keeping skills, the three Chasers' amazing synchronization, and Fenwicke and Mockridge's well-placed hits. Cody, however, other than a few impressive dives and flying tricks when they scored, had yet to make a huge impact on the match.

That darn Snitch, where was it hiding? It shouldn't have been that hard to find either, especially since it was a gorgeous day outside, shining sun with fluffy white clouds passing lazily overhead.

Another ten minutes and Puddlemere was leading 120—40. Quite remarkable, considering that the Puddlemere team had been newly reformed. Where _was_ the damn Snitch? Cody wondered in frustration. She kept having to fly higher and then lower due to the fact that Gudgeon's strategy, apparently, was to tail her.

Sawbridge was charging full tilt towards Wood, the Quaffle tucked snugly under one arm. What she saw caused Cody's blood to run cold—not the sight of Wood, no, that would be absurd—but what was immediately _above_ him. The Snitch was fluttering there.

Without casting a single glance backward at Gudgeon, Cody roared off towards the goal posts without a second thought. Sensing her approach, Oliver looked up in alarm, and then back at Sawbridge, who was also charging at him.

Cody got there a millisecond first, the tail end of her broom colliding with Oliver's shoulder, causing Sawbridge's attempt to shoot through the goal hoops in a graceful arc. Cody pumped her fist in the air triumphantly, and Oliver glared up at her, ready to give her a piece of his mind, as well as a complaint about his aching shoulder, when Cody opened her palm and revealed the Golden Snitch, clasped between her thumb and index finger.

The cheering grew deafening.

* * *

At about quarter of five, Puddlemere United stood on the grass outside the Stadium by the secret entrance. They had been detained by autographs and the press for a while, but now they were finally congregated together, and Hipshook looked like he was about to burst, from pride, from excitement, and sheer joy.

He regarded them all mischievously. "Brilliant job today, everyone," he congratulated them profusely for a good five minutes, and then finally got to the crux of the matter. "However. I feel we can still become a yet stronger team through a series of team building activities."

Mockridge groaned loudly, and Georgia swatted his shoulder playfully.

Hipshook turned to look Oliver in the eye. "Wood."

"Yes?"

"A while ago, you claimed that you would be able to last through a whole day without magic, no problem."

"Yes..." he said slowly, not too sure what Hipshook was getting at.

Hipshook however, simply handed out pieces of parchment with one world scrawled messily across it. He held out a bag. "Put all your wands in here," he said.

After much grumbling and reluctant cursing, the team did as he wanted. Hipshook indicated the pieces of parchment. "That's the name of the hotel we'll be spending the night at. You're all responsible for finding your own way there—sans magic. And don't bother asking any Muggles—it's a magic hotel."

"What?!" exclaimed Georgia in indignation.

"I highly suggest that you pick up dinner along the way; and yes, it is a bit of a challenge. Trust me—you do not want to be the last group there."

"Group?"

Here Hipshook grinned evilly again. "Yes, the groups—Beaters, Mockridge and Fenwicke, will be together. The Chasers: Georgia, Demelza, and Roger." His grin got even wider, if that was at all possible. "And..." he paused again for dramatic effect. "Last but not least, I think you two could use some serious bonding time—Wood and Wronski."

The two stared at each other in utter horror.

"Good luck!" Hipshook cried gleefully.

* * *

**Note:** _Good riddance, the sixth chapter has finally been completed--and it's a far cry longer than any of the previous chapters, so hopefully you guys enjoyed it.  
_  
_Huge shout-out to everyone who's been so supportive of the story so far, it's really motivating, thank you!  
_


	7. Chapter 7

Wood and Wronski – together? _Working _together, as _partners_? What an incredulous, atrocious idea. The two stared each other down, each silently regarding the other. Oliver seemed resigned to the fact, almost contemplative. Cody's heart was hammering away from between her rib cage at such a pace and volume that she secretly worried would be noticeable. This was definitely going to be _very_ awkward, considering the frosty situation between them the past week – ever since after Oliver had left her apartment after that messy breakfast, really.

Hipshook snapped two thick, hairy fingers between them, barely able to raise his arm to their eye level, and then proceeded to wave said gnarly hand when the two failed to respond. "Cody?" he asked kindly. "Oliver."

Simultaneously the two shook themselves out of their reveries, and immediately looked away, turning slightly red, and took in the sight of Hipshook, and the sprawling grass fields. The _empty_ grass fields.

"Oh," Cody breathed out lightly, finally realizing that her breathing had become quite shallow during the time which they had been simply standing there.

Oliver cleared his throat. "Erm – I – has everyone else – left, already?"

Hipshook had a knowing smirk on his face. "You two better get a move on; the rest of the groups basically charged off immediately after hearing their assignments." His grin widened, stretching his leathery, wrinkled face taunt. "I can assure you, Wood, Wronski, that you guys do _not_ want to be the last pair back. I'll see you guys there." And with that final warning, he departed.

Another awkward silence ensued.

"So..." began Cody, not sure whether to breach the topic of why, exactly, he had been acting so cold towards her recently, especially since they really seemed to be getting friendly just last weekend.

Oliver looked away from her determinedly, a hard look coming into his eyes. "So we should probably get going," he ground out quickly. He glanced down at the crisp sheaf of parchment in his hands. "_The Pink Pixie's Puff_?" Oliver read off incredulously.

Cody couldn't help it and let out an unattractive snort. "Yeah. _Right._" Annoyed, Oliver handed her the piece of parchment, confirming it. "Are you bloody – _seriously?_ Wow. Someone must have been either inebriated or intoxicated, coming up with a name like that."

Oliver frowned at her slightly. "So... any ideas on how we're supposed to find this place?"

She shrugged in response. "Kind of a troll-brained team building activity, if you ask me," she said, handing the parchment back to him. "I guess we just wander around until we find it? Hopefully we'll meet someone from whom we can ask directions."

Oliver nodded, his hand making a sporadic subconscious gesture. Cody noticed, and said a little haughtily, "Missing your wand already?"

He gave her a condescending look in response. "Not a chance."

"Fine."

Oliver began walking, and Cody had no choice but to fall into step alongside him, grumbling a bit indignantly all the while. Suddenly the former stopped and turned to look at her. "Can you _shut up_ already?" he asked harshly. "Your _whining_ is really irritating."

Cody gaped at him in shock for a good couple seconds, and then stomped off angrily, but Oliver soon caught up with his long strides. "So..." he began a little awkwardly. Did he feel repentful for his disrespectful words? He should; it would serve him right. "Er—I guess we should grab dinner along the way?"

Cody kept her lips pressed firmly shut, struggling against the inclination to say something scathing back.

"Erm... what're your thoughts on this?" he asked, more hesitantly this time around.

Cody kept walking. Bloody wanker.

He grabbed her shoulder, forcing her to look at him. Cody wrenched her shoulder away; it stung a little, but pride kept her from reaching up to rub at it. She glared at the tall man venomously.

"So, what – you're going to ignore me now?"

"_You_," she jabbed a finger accusingly at his chest, "told me to shut up. So that's what I'm –was –doing."

A surprised look came over Oliver's face, his eyebrows rising towards his shaggy brown hair. "No – I just meant—well, your constant complaints were kind of annoying, yeah?"

"So then I stopped."

"Right. But now –well, if we're going to get there at all, we're going to have to at least _talk._"

"Yeah, well, we're talking now, aren't we?"

He gave her a scorching look. "_What_," he enunciated carefully, "is your problem?"

"What is _my_ problem?" she repeated, her anger flaring dangerously. She could feel her cheeks grow blotchy with splotches of red. "What is _your _problem? I mean, ever since last weekend, you've been pretty much toeing the borderline of nearly being straight up _rude_. I mean, since last weekend, I'd honestly thought that maybe, just maybe, we were becoming _friends_."

At the last word, Oliver started visibly, an indecipherable expression adorning his features. He seemed to be thinking hard, and trying to do it fast.

Scoffing and shaking her head, Cody turned and resumed walking, now at a furiously fast, clipping pace. Without her noticing, Oliver had somehow managed to overtake her and grab her wrist. Both their glances shot down immediately to their connected hands, and he released her suddenly.

"Look," he began, and it was clear from the expression on Cody's face that she wasn't going to make this easy for him. "I – Wipe that look off your face, okay, it's not very becoming, for one thing, and it's not making this – well. I suppose I have been a bit brusque with you this past week, so for that, I apologize." Receiving a small nod, he continued, "and I guess you probably want an explanation."

Cody waited, trying to force her features into an expression of casual indifference.

"Well – you see, inter-team fraternizing – not exactly ... _professional_ – and –well, what happened with the waffle fight – could've been heading – that direction, and..." Catching the broad grin on Cody's lips he abruptly stopped. "What?"

She shook her head slightly. "Wood. It's okay; I'm not one of those Quaffle bunnies with a pathetic infatuation for Quidditch players, desperate to misconstrue anything as an advance. Was _that_ all you've been worrying about all week?"

Oliver coloured, looking sheepish. "You... didn't feel a ... connection?" he asked slowly.

Cody thought it a little odd that he was going for further confirmation, but decided not to push it, and appease him instead. "Like you said; that wouldn't be very professional." She hooked an arm through his, bringing more surprise to his face. "I do think, however, that we would be awesome friends. Come on, we better get going – otherwise we'll get the _coveted_ spot of arriving last. I didn't like those hints that Hipshook kept alluding to..."

Oliver was thoroughly bewildered by how quickly Cody's mood had changed, but complied by following her, as a genuine smile spread slowly across his lips.

* * *

By half after eight, dusk was beginning to fall, casting a beautiful glow over everything. It wasn't exactly conducive to searching for a hotel of which they knew neither hide nor hair of, other than the rather embarrassing name.

"Oh, this is hopeless," said Cody dejectedly.

They stood on a small cobblestone walkway between two large brownstone buildings with crisply indicated signs broadcasting a furniture store and an electronics store selling television sets.

Oliver's stomach let out a loud ferocious growl, and Cody let out a loud obnoxious laugh. "Somebody's hungry." Oliver grinned a bit.

Cody perked up, looking across the street. "Come on," she said, spotting a Muggle hot dog vendor. She bounced up and quickly ordered two jumbos.

Oliver stood beside her a little awkwardly, never having had such an experience before.

Cody exchanged some Muggle pounds for the two hot dogs, and handed one to Oliver. "You'll like it," she promised, grabbing the mustard bottle and giving it a few good shakes, before attempting to squeeze some out. It was exceptionally resistant, and she squished and shook, and all of a sudden a large dollop squirted out with a rather nasty sound, hitting her ribbed tank top just below the moderately low neckline. "Argh!"

"Here, let me help you with that!" exclaimed the hot dog vendor, grabbing a bunch of napkins and reaching forward to dab at the mustard.

Cody froze momentarily, shocked by the awkwardness of the situation, but before she could regain her wits, Oliver had already firmly – almost bordering on forcibly – removed the man's hands. "It's okay, we've got it." He grabbed another handful of napkins and led Cody away. "Here," he said, handing them over once they were well out of range.

Cody looked at him with a puzzled expression, but accepted the proffered napkins with a brief, "Thanks," and proceeded to dab at the mustard. She groaned; an oddly shaped blob of a yellow stain remained.

Sighing exasperatedly, Oliver stepped closer, much to Cody's shock, covering her from view. He murmured a few quick words under his breath, and when Cody looked back down, the stain was gone. "Wandless magic!" she stage whispered in awe.

Oliver looked at her curiously, stepping back. "Did you not learn that in school?"

Cody coloured slightly. "Ah well – I never really fully managed to get the hang of... you know. Thanks, Wood."

"Thanks for the food," Oliver responded smoothly.

Each suddenly became aware of the situation, and for the next few minutes, ate in silence. Just as they were polishing off their food, a voice called out, "Oliver Wood!"

The two turned around sharply to see a woman with severely curled puffy blond hair in acid green robes and carrying a checked crocodile-skin handbag approaching them. "And the new Puddlemere Seeker – Wronski, was it?"

Oliver glared at her venomously. "Rita Skeeter."

Cody looked back and forth between Oliver's stony expression and the Skeeter woman's rather gleeful smile puzzledly. She was... a witch?

"I was watching the game – say, I don't suppose either of you would mind giving a quick impromptu interview, by any chance?"

"No."

"Well, that's rather a shame," she said, reaching into her hideous handbag and withdrawing a sheet of parchment and a vicious acid green Quick-Quotes Quill anyway.

Seeing an opportunity to reach their destination, Cody asked, "You wouldn't happen to know where _The Pink Pixies' Puff _is, would you?"

Rita snorted. "What is that, a hotel?" Receiving an affirmation, she said, "well it sounds exactly like the posh type of place where I would stay, but unfortunately, I don't, dear." She looked at them suspiciously, "Ah! And why would the two of you be heading off to a hotel _together and alone_?" she asked, her quill scratching furiously across the parchment beside her.

Oliver stepped up to her, towering dangerously over her. "Leave it the hell _alone_, Skeeter," he said darkly, then turned and walked away quickly, leaving Cody to jog after him.

"Why the hell did you do that?" he thundered when Cody had caught up.

"What do you mean?" asked Cody innocently. "Well, I figured she might be able to help us..." she trailed off uncertainly, catching the murderous expression on Oliver's face.

"_That_," he said, "was Rita Skeeter. Just you wait – soon there'll be articles popping up about our supposed _love affair_ – maybe, if we're lucky, we'll get _hounded_ by paparazzi. With _bad publicity_. Well done."

"I'm sorry," said Cody. "I didn't realize—"

"Forget it." They continued walking, going down a dark, shady alleyway. The fact that darkness had now fully fallen did not help matters much.

Suddenly, Cody stopped and looked up in shock. "No. Bloody. _Way_," she whispered.

Oliver turned back. "What is it now?"

Wordlessly, Cody pointed up at the sign on the overhang, and both of them gaped at it in shock. _The Pink Pixies' Puff_. The surroundings were rather hard to believe, definitely. The building was dark and cool, and seemed rather damp and rundown. Mould could've literally been climbing the walls like thick carpets of ivy. The name was utterly laughable in juxtaposition to the actual building.

Almost mesmerized by this revelation, Cody pulled open the dusty door and the two stepped in. Immediately, the smell of hard Firewhisky greeted them, as well as the boisterous roar of a crowd of thoroughly inebriated customers.

Out of the crowd came Hipshook, and he seemed rather worried, wringing his hands nervously. "Oh good, you guys have finally shown up – I was beginning to get quite worried there. Quite worried."

"Hipshook—what the hell?"

Looking around at the less than condonable surroundings, he looked at them sheepishly. "Well, it's an out of the way place – run down a bit in recent years, since I've last been here – friends with the owner. It's out of the way, you see, and I figured it would be best to keep a low profile until tomorrow, the press conference, you see?"

Cody nodded, unable to give any other sort of reaction. "Okay... is everyone else here already?"

Hipshook nodded gravely.

Oliver groaned loudly. "Okay, so what are our repercussions, then?"

Here, Hipshook coloured even further, his ruddy cheeks burning. "Ah well, about that. Initially, I'd only meant it as an empty threat – all in good fun, yeah? Except," he took a deep breath, "something really did come up. There's... only one room left."

Oliver and Cody stared at him, uncomprehending.

"Some factors came up," Hipshook continued nervously, "so there's only one room left," he repeated. Still receiving not response from the two flabbergasted and tired Quidditch players, both of whom towered over him in pure physical size, he clarified relucatantly, "you two will have to share a room." Seeing their horrified expressions, he continued, "but I've been assured that there is a large spacious king-sized bed up there, so I'm sure you'll be fine. Your bags have already been brought up." The rest of the words whooshed out in a rush. "Get a good rest!" he exclaimed, and quickly pressed a key into Cody's hand, then disappeared into the crowd.

"Are you _serious_?" Cody asked after him incredously. And he hadn't even given them back their wands. She looked down at the key in her hand; the room number was etched into it. Sighing heavily, she said, "well, I suppose we might as well go and... see the room."

Giving a silent nodded assent, Oliver followed her up the rickety wood stairs to the second level, and down the damp hall with the hideous magenta carpet covered with cartoons of badly depicted pygmy puffs to a door at the very end of the corridor.

A little disgusted by the poor upkeep of the place, Cody inserted the key and swung the door open. The sight that greeted them was far from pleasant.

Low wood beams protruded from the ceiling, crossing the length of the rather small room. There was an antique wooden nightstand that looked like it was upon its last leg of life. A yellowed lamp with a peeling dust shade stood atop it, crooked. The floor, also wood, was darkened with age yet still seemed to hold a multitude of splinters. The window sill was caked in some dirty brown substance, and the blinds were rather crooked. Worst of all, however, was the sagging bed that stood limply in the middle of the room, at the most perhaps only a double-size. Oh. Shit.

* * *

  
_**Note: **This chapter was a bit different to write, because although I had a vague idea of what happened before and after, the contents of this chapter weren't really pre-planned in detail. Cody and Oliver led me where they wanted to go. :) Hopefully it turned out okay?  
It's been insanely busy, because I've been in the midst of exam period, but I figured you guys would enjoy an update, and it was a good break for me as well. You can show some love by popping your thoughts in that little grey box down there ;)_  
_Happy 2009! _


	8. Chapter 8

For a few seconds of stunned silence, both Oliver and Cody stood there at the door, absolutely frozen in mute horror. Unable to move, to speak, or to give any indication of being alive other than heaving breaths.

Cody pushed the door open a little further; the door squeaked and groaned loudly in protest.

"This is a joke... right?" asked Cody weakly.

Dumbfounded, Oliver took a few tentative steps into the room, feeling very much like he was foraging into dangerous territory. "You have _got_to be kidding me."

Cody entered the room after him, glancing around nervously. "Wow... shabby digs." She spotted their luggage piled haphazardly over in the corner, and sighed. Indicating her latest observation, she said stoutly, "guess it's not a joke, then."

The door swung shut squeakily the moment that Cody released the knob. "Erm..."

"Come on," said Oliver suddenly. "Let's go.

Cody simply looked at him strangely. "Go where?"

"I can't stay in this room any longer than necessary. Let's go down to the pub – maybe Hipshook's still down there somewhere. Or maybe we could see if any last minute openings came up. And I could really use a butterbeer – Firewhisky would be best, of course – right now."

Cody gaped at him in shock. Talk about rapid mood change. Besides, "What about all that preaching about being in optimal shape for Quidditch and laying off of non-athlete condusive foods?"

He gestured grandly to their surroundings. "Well, I'm not staying in here for anything other than the hours absolutely needed for sleep, and I'm sure as hell not sleepy yet."

Cody grinned. "Okay." Who knew Oliver Wood had a little bit of rebel in him?

* * *

After a few tours of the lower level of the hotel however, both were beginning to lose hope. Dejection set in, at about the same time as exhaustion, as the high from winning the match began to wear off. A heated discussion with the owner had yielded no better results either.

Tiredly, Cody sank down on a bar stool, and Oliver plopped down heavily beside her. She cocked a grin at her captain. "I would've thought that the whole Quidditch player status would've come with some better perks than this."

"Don't," he said, a little annoyed. He sighed, rubbing his temples. "Usually, it does. We've never had to deal with such accommodations before. Although—we can't really judge what kind of rooms the rest of the team have."

A burly looking man leaned over the counter at Cody. "What can I get cha?"

"A butterbeer is fine."

"I'll take a Firewhiskey," said Oliver, prompting a curious glance from Cody. "I wasn't kidding—this is pretty aggravating. Damn Hipshook—can't believe he still has our wands. I mean, special circumstances and all considered, it really would've helped. Having magic, that is. Because then we could probably whip the room into presentable shape."

Cody punched his arm playfully. "Hey now—Mr. Cocky-No-Problem-Day-Without-Magic, look what you've gotten us all into. Besides, if you did that, for one thing, it would be cheating, and for another, you would technically forfeit the bet."

"Technically."

"Here you go," said the bartender gruffly, sliding two glass mugs across the counter, and turning away to help somebody else. The mugs didn't look particularly clean, but Cody took a huge swig anyway. It tickled slightly going down her throat, but the butterbeer filled her with a fuzzy dullness.

"Bottoms up," said Oliver grumpily, chugging a good deal in one huge gulp.

Cody looked at him, taking in his chiselled profile from this angle. This close proximity. Oliver let out a loud belch, and a cloud of foul smelling alcohol vapour wafted straight into her face. "Gross," she ground out through her teeth, trying to not breathe too deeply.

Well. This wasn't awkward at all.

Cody searched desperately for something to say, but now Oliver seemed to be regarding her in a strange way, his head cocked to the side and eyebrow raised contemplatively. A little spooked by it all, Cody raised her mug and took a large sip of butterbeer.

And promptly choked.

She coughed violently a few times, spraying some onto the counter.

The bartender rushed over and gave her an evil look before soaking it up with a greasy dirty rag. "Whoa lady—how much have you had to drink?"

"Too much," chuckled Oliver, a mischievous look on his lips. "She already had some before coming here, I'd advise you not to give her any more."

"Well," said the bartender. "I would _appreciate_ if you did not dispel regurgitated alcohol all over the place."

"Sorry," said Cody sheepishly, "but I'm really not drunk or anything. This is my first butterbeer of the night, I swear! That was a total accident—"

Oliver just shook with barely contained laughter beside her.

Bastard. "Really sorry," Cody repeated to the bartender, who was still glaring at her. He finally grunted something that might've been an "it's okay" and walked away.

Cody rounded on Oliver angrily. "Dude, what was up with that?"

"Dude?" he asked, looking at her questioningly.

"Don't dodge the question," she said, giving him a rather hard shove. He nearly fell off the stool, but managed to regain his balance just in time. "Thanks a lot," she said, sarcasm heavily coating her tone.

"Oh, you're very welcome. Really, it was no problem at all."

"Jerk," Cody muttered under her breath. She downed the rest of her butterbeer, sloshing a little out of the corner of her mouth and onto her shirt in her haste. "Damn," she said, looking down at the unattractive wet splotches.

Oliver was laughing again, loud roaring peals of laughter that shook his large frame.

"Glad you find me so amusing," said Cody icily, standing up. She brushed herself off as well as she could, pushing off the droplets of water. "It's been a long day—I'm going to go back up to the room."

"Wait up a minute," said Oliver, holding up a finger, and draining the rest of the Firewhiskey. "We'll have to figure out some sort of arrangement," he said grimly.

* * *

Cody passed over the threshold of the room right on Oliver's heels—literally, eliciting an "Ouch!"—desperately hoping that perhaps the small double bed she'd seen earlier had simply been another prank on Hipshook's part.

No such luck. The tiny bed still stood solitarily in the middle of the room. All by its small lonesome.

"Well," she said awkwardly.

"Well," repeated Oliver.

The door swung shut behind them, accompanied by a symphony of squeaks.

"How're we going to coordinate this?"

Oliver sighed heavily, internally debating. In the end, gentlemanly inclinations won out. "I'll just... take a pillow and slum on the floor," he said hollowly.

"You can't do that," said Cody automatically.

"No, really, I don't mind."

"You're the captain of Puddlemere United, for Merlin's sake," protested Cody stubbornly, crossing her arms defensively. "We can't have you _slumming on the floor_ or anything," she said, a slight mocking tone taking over.

"Well, what else can we do? Because, it's not like I'm going to let the girl take the floor."

"The girl? The _girl?_ Um, that's kind of sexist."

Oliver gaped at Cody in shock. What in Merlin's name was wrong with this girl? "I offered to take the floor and—"

"Because it's the _gentlemanly_ thing to do, right?" asked Cody, sounding a little bitter this time around.

Now he was just downright confused. "Well... yeah."

Cody sighed deeply, and then closed her eyes for a couple seconds, as though she were trying very hard to control herself. Finally she opened her eyes again, and rocked forward onto the balls of her feet. "You can't take the floor," she said, sounding neutral, almost generic. Like she was functioning on autopilot. "Pretty big day tomorrow, what with the press conference and that charity event in the evening. You—both of us—are going to need a good night's rest."

"Honestly, it's fine—" began Oliver, ever the persistent gentleman.

"No—"

"Fine, you take the floor then!" said Oliver loudly, now annoyed with the whole situation. All that Firewhiskey in his system probably wasn't helping matters either. "Damn it, Wronski, what else do you propose that we do?"

Suddenly a gigantic cockroach skittered scummily across the floor. The two Quidditch players looked at each other uneasily.

"Well, damn," said Cody, a little too brightly, "there goes that plan." She walked over to the bed, and took one of the pillows and laid it in the middle of the bed, effectively separating it into two very narrow strips. "There—problem solved." She looked up at him with a petulant grin, then raised an index finger and squashed it against her nose.

Oliver couldn't help but let out another hearty chuckle. "You look like an ugly pig like that," he said.

Cody immediately released her nose, and a frosty expression took over her face. Abruptly she turned and grabbed her toiletries, then headed out the door and down the hall to prepare for the night.

At the time of proposing her idea, she'd appeared to be cocky and pleased with her idea. Now, in practise, with the two of them lying on the already cramped, sagging bed with a pillow between them, the situation was even more awkward.

She didn't know about Oliver, but Cody was wide awake, facing the side of the bed, clutching the edge with stiff knuckles, trying her best not to fall off. Great. Just great.

Joining _Puddlemere United_, she had expected a great summer of playing Quidditch to take her mind off of waiting for a reply from Hippograph, awesome perks, getting to visit new places. Great hotel rooms—luxurious ones, four stars at least, if not five. But no, instead she was stuck here, in this dump.

Why couldn't she fall asleep? _Go to sleep already!_

Damn, why was she still awake?

Wow, this was really awkward. She could hear Oliver breathing behind her. Honestly, he was her Quidditch captain, for crying out loud, and she barely knew him. And now they were stuck sharing sleeping quarters. This was definitely way too close for comfort.

How the hell was she going to get any sleep like this?

She was almost regretting coming up with the idea of having them share, with a pillow propped in between. _Almost_. But of course, that would be the wrong thing to think.

She pounded the pillow. Her mind was slightly fuzzy. Probably left over effects from the combination of the butterbeer and staying awake when lacking sleep.

And the next thing she knew, she was waking up, even though it was still very dark. Panic was consuming her; something was wrong. Very wrong.


	9. Chapter 9

Cody's leg was throbbing from the impact of something hard hitting it. The pain had a sudden start, and was now reverberating through her shin. For a second, she struggled to orientate herself; the surroundings were dark and unfamiliar. The surface upon which she lay was stiff and cramped.

There was some kind of moaning noise coming from her left? A ghost, perhaps? She brought a hand up to the side of her temple. Where was she?

Something soft and slightly hairy graced her left calf. What was that?

And suddenly it hit her. The room. The bed. The cockroach on the floor – _cockroach? _Is that what that was? With a squeal, Cody flung the covers off her in one fluid motion, panicking. She groped for her wand, and then remembered that she didn't have it.

Her eyes had yet to adjust to the lack of light, and it took a couple seconds for her to comprehend the sight she was seeing. There was no cockroach. It was a _leg._ A _hairy_ leg. A _male_ leg.

What?

Cody's head whipped around to her left. Oliver. Right. It was just Oliver, she was perfectly safe. No Death Eaters. No Dark Magic. Safe. Her erratic breathing began to calm down a little. And that was when she realized that Oliver was still... well, he was still asleep. But he was also still moaning and thrashing gently. His finely chiselled features were contorted in discomfort.

Something compassionate took her over.

"Hey," Cody whispered softly, shaking Oliver's shoulder. "Wood. Wood, wake up."

In response, Oliver let out another groan.

"Come on, Wood, wake up."

He continued to writhe.

This was hopeless. Cody shook his shoulder harder. "Oi, Wood." Was he having a nightmare? Sighing helplessly, Cody raised a hand reluctantly and slapped it across his face with moderate strength.

Oliver sat up with a roar, and had Cody's arm in a circulation-hindering hold before she could even react. His other hand instinctively reached for his wand – which wasn't there, of course. "What the...?"

Cody let out a muffled gasp of surprise. "What's your problem?"

Oliver squinted at her in the dark. "Wronski?"

"No, Wood, I'm the freaking Cookie Monster."

He released her wrist, throwing it away from him. "Sorry," he mumbled darkly, turning away to look at the opposite wall.

The tension in the air was palpable. There was no denying it – things were awkward now.

"Are you – are you okay?" asked Cody hesitantly. "You were – at least, I think you were having a nightmare."

"Yeah."

"You were moaning in your sleep and basically looked really uncomfortable and –"

"I know," Oliver said hollowly, cutting her off. He was still looking away.

The air was stiff. Cody got up and padded over to the window on her toes, praying to Merlin all the while that she wouldn't step on any cockroaches – alive or otherwise. After she peeled apart the curtains, it took her a fair bit of effort to pry open the window. It looked – and felt – like it hadn't been opened in decades. She was rewarded with a nice gentle breeze swishing into the room.

During this time, Oliver had sat up in the bed to lean against the headboard and was now looking at her curiously.

She could see better now, the combination of her eyes having adjusted and the beams of moonlight streaming in through the windows. Cody loped back across the floor and jumped into the bed quickly before she could encounter any pests. She settled in to lean against the headboard as well, bringing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around her bare legs. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked softly.

Oliver was silent for so long, she was afraid that he wasn't going to answer.

"Last year – the Battle of Hogwarts – " he swallowed thickly.

"You were there," prodded Cody.

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Is that what you were dreaming about?"

Oliver shrugged one shoulder. "I don't know. Maybe. Probably." He raised the other shoulder, and then lowered it. "Yeah."

"Does that happen often?"

"Often enough."

Cody lay her head down against the tops of her knees. "I'll bet it still haunts you. When the day comes, you think you can move on, that you can get past it. But you can't. Night – darkness – brings it all back. The memories. The sights. The feelings. The smells. Everything – it's all there."

"It's all there," Oliver agrees, repeating her words. "So _real_, it's like you're reliving it." He splayed out the fingers of his left hand, looking at them. "It was... it was brutal." Beside him, Cody nodded, but Oliver was still looking down and didn't see it. "I just – Merlin, some days I just want to forget. Forget that it happened, forget that I took part, forget that I was there, you know?" He grimaced. "But then I feel terrible. Terrible that I should want to forget, that I could even _think_ of forgetting. I mean, after all the sacrifices, after all that everyone's been through – how could I possibly wish for something so _selfish_?"

"That's not selfish," Cody said softly.

"I graduated a few years before the Battle of Hogwarts," he said abruptly. "I went back though, for the battle. Once you're part of Hogwarts, it becomes you. It's part of your blood. You'll always be a part of it. So we went back. We heard the call for help and we went. The whole Quidditch team, everybody."

Cody nodded. She could relate. She understood what he meant.

"So there we were. And there they were. And so we fought."

This wasn't news to her.

"We fought for what we believed in, what we thought was right – what we _knew_, beyond any doubt whatsoever, was right." He drew a sharp intake of breath. "We fought because we were able." He turned his hand over to look at his calloused palm. "McGonagall and the others, they tried to send the children, the under-aged, away. They didn't want them to fight. And with good reason, of course."

A shiver slithered through Cody. She knew how this story would end. "They didn't listen," she said hollowly.

Oliver shook his head. "No. No, they didn't listen. And so they fought."

"Against powerful Dark wizards."

"Against powerful Dark wizards," agreed Oliver. "Wizards whose skills were far beyond their own."

"And they died."

"They did." Oliver let out a choked off sob, trying to strangle it in his throat before it could fully escape. "I remember – I remember the brief reprieve in between when – when we were able to collect some of the bodies. _So many_. So young. So _familiar._"

Cody buried her face deeper into her knees, shielded by a curtain of hair.

"They kind of blended together after awhile. All the faces. All the bodies. They became this one intangible mess. Which was terrible; each and every one of them deserved recognition – as individuals, as _heroes_."

Cody didn't say anything in response to this. She agreed fully, and a sort of mutual understanding seemed to be passing between them.

"I remember this one little boy – Colin Creevey. He was underage as well, and he'd fought – and then he died." Oliver closed his hand into a tight fist. "So many losses, so many people I couldn't save."

"I know what you mean," Cody said into her knees.

"I carried his body with Neville Longbottom – you've probably heard of him. Anyway, between us, the two of us carried his body into the Great Hall. We found the corpse under a giant's club. It was brutal. The way his eyes were so glassy – so blank – so empty, so emotionless, just staring like that, unseeing..."

Cody's head reappeared from the shelter of her knees. "That's a sight you never forget."

"No." Oliver cleared his throat wetly in an effort to subdue another sob. "Fred – Fred Weasley. He was one of my best friends. George's twin. One of the best beaters Gryffindor has seen the likes of. Murdered. Just brutally murdered, just like that. Presumably the work of Augustus Rookwood."

Cody's heart clenched uncomfortably. The name Rookwood was familiar, unfortunately.

"Fred, Lupin, Tonks... so many losses."

Cody could feel her blood boiling in fury again as the memories began to resurface. The pain. The anguish. The agony.

"It's been a year." Oliver dug the palm of one hand into his right eye, rubbing viciously. "Every day I wake up and wonder, 'why me?' and 'why them?' Why am I still alive? Why aren't they?" He let a long breath of air whistle through his teeth. "And then I think – about whether I'm living up to their memory, whether I'm making it worthwhile that I'm still alive."

"Yeah."

"And sometimes, I don't know if it's enough. I mean, for Circe's sake, I play Quidditch for a living. Some days I feel so useless, so asinine. I mean, honestly. How _trivial_ is it that all I focus my entire life on is some game?"

"Quidditch means everything to you – even I can see that." Cody turned and sought his eyes in the dark. "Look at me. You exude passion about the sport, and that's what makes you alive. Finding something -- having something – that makes life worth living, is absolutely crucial. And that's what Quidditch is for you."

"Maybe."

"You have to let yourself heal, Wood."

"You know what else is really messed up?" He lets out a slight mirthless laugh. "Despite how much I want to forget, the thought of actually forgetting scares the crap out of me. I'm afraid of forgetting, of not doing their memories justice."

Cody let out a mirthless chuckle in response. "Dying is easy – all you have to do is give up. Now living – that's what's really and truly hard. Being left behind – that's what's hard."

A wracking sob escaped from Oliver at last, his shoulders quaking with the effort of – unsuccessfully – trying to hold it in. "I just don't know anything any more."

Without really thinking about, Cody's hand reached for Oliver's in the dark, and they clasped together, fingers intertwining. It felt secure. It felt right. It felt warm.

It felt safe.


End file.
